


Whore-King of Falconia

by BARALAIKA



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Guro, Large Cock, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Humiliation, Rough Oral Sex, Snuff, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BARALAIKA/pseuds/BARALAIKA
Summary: Guts makes Griffith suck his dick, then snaps his neck. With all of Falconia watching. A very fun piece to work on, since who wouldn’t want to publicly humiliate Griffith like that? ❤︎ (Commission.)





	Whore-King of Falconia

“Make sure they can all see what a cunt you are,” Guts growled. His voice was serrated, through a throat worn ragged by screaming and laboured breath. His single eye was wide, crazed and wild, more intense than anything Griffith had ever seen in his life. Perhaps more intense than even he.

The grand plaza of Falconia had been intended for displays of power, glory and peace. Its people had rejoiced in the square many a time, enjoyed prosperity and celebrated their festivals with their rulers gladly looking on— this time, however, the air was heavy and tense, the fear palpable as the corpses of demons laid rotting in the open air and the illusion broke around them. They answered the summons with hope in their hearts.

_Lord Griffith will prevail._

_Our Lord is righteous!_

_The White Hawk will reign supreme!_

But when they saw the carnage, they knew it was not what they wanted.

“ _Go on,”_ came Guts’ command.

Slowly, Griffith knelt before him. His crowd, his followers, his  _public_ , gasped and groaned in horror. Their Lord… was kneeling to the Black Swordsman. The figure that terrorised them, that haunted their dreams and chased them through their nightmares. A man covered in blood, bearing a slab of a sword that turned their valiant protectors into horrors and tore their bodies open with sheer force of will. A vicious demon. An abomination.

“You don’t have to listen to him, Lord Griffith!”

“Don’t! Please, don’t!”

“A king does not kneel!”

If only he were merely kneeling. The mirror-shone plate that Griffith donned hit the blood-soaked flagstone as he found one knee before Guts. Not once had he looked up. Not once had he acknowledged the man before him. With his head bowed, his hair shrouded his face in white curls befitting an angel with eyes closed as in prayer. His people were on tenterhooks, waiting for his move…

They wished they never had to see it.

Griffith’s hands rose to the groin of the Black Swordsman’s armour and sought the buckles that loosened it.

Guts’ cock was a monster in its own right. He bore the bulk of a large man’s full erection while fully soft and Griffith opened his leathers enough to let it flop out into full view; it steamed, so hot and stuffy that the cool air was enough of a contrast. It was as grotesquely scarred as the rest of him, marred with cuts and slashes that had been poorly stitched back together or had a difficult time healing and was crowned with a badly circumcised head. The thick scar was mottled, uneven and lumpy, pulled at to try and make a ‘new’ foreskin at some point but promptly given up on. Everything about his prick was ugly and brutish, from its pouting slit to the deep, dark thatch of long pubic hair at the base and yet it made Griffith’s mouth water.

“Sniff it, whore.”

Griffith did not need to be told twice. Ever so slightly, he leant his head towards Guts’ cock… and sniffed at it almost daintily. Even now he played the same games as he always had and for a moment, Guts was almost fond of him. But a yank at Griffith’s white curls snapped him back to reality and the gravity of their situation.

“Nah. Nah, none of that  _weak_  shit. Properly. Like a man.”

Guts gripped himself at the root and smacked his dick wryly against Griffith’s smooth cheek, before leaning back enough to rub it all over his prim nose. He left a stinking snail trail right around his nostrils, vulgar and inescapable— there was no escaping it. With the raw, dripping, filthy cock right against him, there was no choice but to breathe in through his nose.

Griffith shuddered.

“Yeah. You miss me? Go on, give it a kiss. Show them how much you love my cock.”

Soft lips pursed up so perfectly and Griffith leant in towards Guts’ still- soft cock. Just as he reached it, Guts let go and let it flop free— his weapon of a dick swung between his legs, heavy and pendulous and just as Griffith’s head bowed to meet it, Guts took himself back up and casually slapped his prey’s pristine, porcelain cheek with his filthy prick to a wet, meaty  _smack_. People gasped in the squares below them and yet Griffith merely smiled, straightened up and leant back in again to where Guts held himself level with the waiting mouth. They were all watching him.

The dribbling slit of Guts’ pisshole leaked onto Griffith’s pink lips as he sucked slightly and sniffed at the raw head. So close now, the stench was overpowering. Guts reeked of unwashed cock and ass, stale piss and old cum all bundled into one masculine festering. It was lucky that he did not have a full foreskin, as it would have been an utter horror to behold! Griffith broke the kiss with a wet smack and was left gasping; a line of drool and precum sagged between them, linking the two men.

_Just as I remember…_

He was scrambling Griffith’s brain already.

Griffith’s lips wrapped around the raw, pulsing heft of Guts’ bare cockhead and couldn’t stifle the groan that rolled up his throat. His eyes fluttered, his prick throbbed without thinking and thoughts of it in his throat, in his ass, buried in his body and so deep he could feel it in his lungs, invaded his mind as he sucked more in. A needy slut. A desperate cunt. More than anything, he wanted Guts to know how much he adored his dick and brazenly, he slurped on its meat in an attempt to wet it as much as he could, slathering it with his tongue. Just the head alone felt as if it were stuffing his mouth and knowing that it had only just started to grow was the best part.

“ _Mmph… nngh…_ ” Griffith grunted, between long, lewd sucks and gasps for breath through his dainty nose. Drool ran from the corners of his mouth as he pushed his head forward and sheathed it behind his teeth, allowing him to worship Guts’ circumcision scar with his lips.

He looked so ridiculous with his jaw stretched, cheeks hollowing when he sucked and eyelashes fluttering all the while. Between his legs grew his own shameful bulge and his asshole was pulsing, dying to be bent over and punished as he had been so often in days long gone. Working hard at the grotesque scar, Griffith’s tongue wrapped around the puckered skin and lumpy line as he opened his jaw far enough to get some room in… only for Guts’ cock to keep swelling into it! He was getting longer as well, keeping insistent pressure on Griffith to keep gulping him down as one doll-like hand rose to his hip and the other delved into his leathers to fish out Guts’ bull-like balls.

A new wave of heat slapped him in the face: a fresh, raunchy stink of stewed ball sweat. Greedily, he groped the huge testicles, awed at their weight, how they stretched his sac and how they sagged and swung. Griffith could have cum himself right there and then. His cock twitched desperately as he slurped down more of Guts’s length and fondled his nuts, humping at the air.

But Guts just stood there, let go of his cock and settled his hands on his belt. Wide-legged and confident. A demon in his own right, debasing a king and a saviour.

The whole situation made him want to fucking laugh.

“C’mon, slut. You can try harder than that. Suck me good enough and maybe I’ll split your pussy in two for your loving public. Think they’re proud of you right now? Or did they know that they can dangle any filthy cock in front of you and you’ll want it?”

Oh god, he was right, wasn’t he?

With renewed vigour, Griffith skewered himself on Guts’ cock. He craned his jaw open as wide as he could and thrust himself forwards,  _hard_ , until he hit the back of his throat with Guts’ ridiculous cock and gagged. The sound seemed to echo around Falconia’s square and spittle ran from Griffith’s pink lips as he tried to suck, breathe and keep his stomach calm all at the same time. Disgusting. That was the moment he felt like a true whore, a worthless slut. No sound was worse than a cunt choking on a cock— it meant that they weren’t even good at  _that_.

So Griffith started to swallow. He clenched his grip of Guts’ hip as he suppressed his gag reflex as best as he could… and gulped down the weapon of a dick that made his jaw burn. The raw, thick head was the worst part to get over as it scraped by his tonsils, as keen to defile this passage as any other and when it popped into his throat, Guts did not let him rest.

Immediately, he began to rock his hips, shallow-fucking Griffith’s clenching throat. He was left spluttering, hacking as spit and pre went up his nose and ran out of it in a debasing display of ineptitude and yet Guts did not let him rest for a moment. He took a rough grip of Griffith’s head and rammed his prick down his tight, resisting throat and began to fuck him in earnest.

Armour rattled and clanked and leather groaned, while skin slapped together and Griffith hacked and coughed wetly as Guts reamed his throat-cunt, smashing his beautiful face into his hard body. It only took a few strokes for Griffith’s nose to give and a sickly, saturated mess of hot, red blood began to mingle with the mess he snorted out of his smashed nose.

Below them, onlookers were stunned into silence or sobs. Griffith’s eyes were fluttering, presumably from pain… but they could not see how his cock strained.

He was finally fulfilling his purpose. He was… complete.

_I missed this…_

Being fucked like this. Being owned like this. Owning someone like this. His mind bubbles with the things that he wanted to do to Guts— how he wanted to breed him, to fill him with the cocks of his Apostles and see him scream, to claw his mark into his flesh and salt the wounds to make the scars deeper, uglier. All was a haze of pleasure and dull impact punctuated by the crunch of his own bones and tissues.

But then there was nothing in him and he could breathe. In huge, drowned man’s gasps, Griffith drew breath but inhaled fluids and coughed violently. His head spun, but when he looked up at Guts, he was everything he remembered, everything he adored and more. Time had only served to make him more handsome. More imposing.

He was jerking his cock, smearing blood and spittle back and forth in wet smacks until with a snarl and a bellow, Guts came all over Griffith’s smashed-up, beautiful face. Thick globs of spunk hit him in the lips and nose, painted his cheek and hit his eyelashes; Griffith was left glossed by him, humbled and in utter awe… god, he loved him, he loved him so much that he hated him—

But Guts’ hand on his head didn’t let go. His tongue darted out to try and taste his precious cum but there was no time; his other let go of his still-twitching, still-drooling cock and took a solid grip of his shoulder. One eye looked down into two and where Griffith stared up with sluttish adoration, Guts glowered down with a grin of hatred.

With a sharp, sickening  _CRACK_ , Guts twisted Griffith’s head quickly enough to snap his neck. He let him fall to the ground with a flatter of dead weight and armour as he tucked his cock away and sneered down into the gathered masses.

“Your king was a cunt,” Guts proclaimed, as he sunk his boot into Griffith’s side and flipped him over, displaying his spunk-smeared face frozen in rapture.

He scoffed.

“Find a new one.”


End file.
